For That Punch
by sneauxfo
Summary: Gatlocke has to apologize, but Rex doesn't want to hear it. Gatlocke finds a way. Gatlex.


this is for **wonker8**, for so unflinchingly poking a stick at the gatlex. XDXD

**Title-** For That Punch

**Sum-** Gatlocke has to apologize, but Rex doesn't want to hear it. Gatlocke finds a way. Gatlex.

**01110111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01101011 01101001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01101111 01110000 01110000 01101111 01110010 01110100 01110101 01101110 01101001 01110011 01110100 01101001 01100011 00100000 01110000 01100001 01110010 01100101 01101110 01110100 01110011 00100000 01100101 01111000 01110000 01100101 01110010 01101001 01101101 01100101 01101110 01110100 00100000 01101111 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01101001 01110010 00100000 01100011 01101000 01101001 01101100 01100100 00100000 01100001 01101110 01111001 01110111 01100001 01111001 00111111**

"So, how many apologies exactly do I owe?"

Rex ignored him, turning his face away and hugging his knees tighter at Gatlocke's call. He was still angry, then.

The moody boy had been avoiding Gatlocke since morning, all for one incident that Gatlocke still couldn't figure out for the life of him. They'd be talking and then suddenly they weren't, and then Rex seemed upset but of course wouldn't admit to it, and then he'd taken off.

After he didn't turn up for the next half of the day, Gatlocke realized that he at last was bearing witness to Rex's juvenile passive aggression- the lad was just at that age of being melodramatic and closing himself off from the world to make a statement. But Gatlocke refused to be kept away from for long; he had made good reputation and living as a thief who constantly broke into places he was supposed to stay out of, after all. Furthermore, he had grown long tired of waiting for the boy to come around, even though it was quite explicit that Rex still didn't want to see him.

Gatlocke had to hand it to him; if Rex wanted isolation, he picked the right place to do it, perched upon a ledge among many ledges along this particular cliff face. But he'd forgotten to turn the GPS on his cellphone off, and that was more or less the same as an invitation to Gatlocke.

He studied the precipice formation, figuring the best way to get to where Rex was, before jumping onto the nearest ledge, then the next-nearest one after. None too shabby for a bloke who couldn't fly, he thought. The way his voice had carried along the high crag may have discouraged someone weaker of heart, but Gatlocke had already been flung off a cliff before (and lived!), so he didn't find this second go too major an ordeal in comparison. Neither was it lost on him that both times were on account of the same delightfully infuriating evo-boy.

"Love-favors, I meant," Gatlocke continued as he leapt down from one shelf of earth to another, using his arm blades to guide his falls. Steadily, he closed distance between them. "We could start with a hundred, say, blowjobs, and revise later because they don't all have to be blowies, and we don't have to limit ourselves to a hundred, and everything will remain in your preference, of course."

He stuck his arm blades into the compact dirt of the wall and flung himself the remaining distance over to where Rex was. His landing was precise, with a minimal kick of dust, and stylish flair of billowing black cloak, but when he looked over at Rex for plaudit, he only saw that the boy hadn't budged from his curled, sulking state.

Gatlocke nonetheless persisted. "Have we a bargain?"

The lump of teen hormones shifted slightly.

"Could you just…," Rex's voice cracked and there was a pause before it came out steadier, "leave me alone? For once."

It should be noted that Gatlocke at this point had made acquaintance with many of Rex's different voices, from the one that dragged out in ragged breaths after a particularly vigorous altercation, to the one that bubbled up in light flutters when he was overjoyed, to the one breathless and strained tight when he came. But this one was entirely new.

It didn't even sound at all like what the words were supposedly intended to convey. If anything, it sounded exactly opposite, as if Rex was already alone- which was completely inaccurate since he wasn't. He couldn't possibly be alone, not since Gatlocke was there with him now. It gave potential reason for greater concern.

For that reason, he nudged Rex with his foot, seeing if he could coax more words out of the young man. And did it once more when he got nothing. And once more after that when there was still no response. And at that point, his impatience got the better of him, because he did not wait half a day, follow a cellphone signal across a ridiculous expanse, and jump off a cliff, all for this bit of trifling.

"Get offa me!" Rex exclaimed, still trying to fold into himself even as Gatlocke pried him off the ground.

"Face me and talk!" Gatlocke answered sharply. He maintained a vice on Rex's arm, and began shaking him out thoroughly.

As desired, Rex flung both arms out to keep balance, and Gatlocke subseuently saw what Rex had been trying to keep from him.

He saw swollen, miserable circles around teary bloodshot eyes, and wet sheen on a flushed face.

"I made you cry," Gatlocke realized, completely bewildered.

Immediately, Rex began wiping his face vigorously on his sleeve. "You did not! And- I'm not…crying…." And he still wouldn't meet Gatlocke's stare. "'Specially not over a d-bag like you."

Except he actually was. And Gatlocke hadn't ever seen him like that yet.

What even had he said earlier? Gatlocke wracked his brain, but honestly couldn't recall for the life of him. He barely remembered the gist of the conversation, even. It had started out like any routine morning, the two of them snarking back and forth over the breakfast table. He remembered Rex's gradual change in attitude, how he excused himself from the table and left Gatlocke wondering on his return for what became hours.

Gatlocke hadn't said anything radical, in his opinion, nothing that he could find extraordinary. All of it was forgettable prattle, none worth storing for memory, much less getting worked up over.

Nevertheless, here was Rex, looking especially hurt. Not battered, scuffed, and bleeding prettily- the kind of injuries that could be assessed and squared away easily. He was hurt in a way Gatlocke couldn't get his hands on or wrap his mind around, but ultimately, Gatlocke was aware that it was his fault.

Before he knew it, he was saying, "I'm s-"

"Don't," Rex sighed, and although his voice was soft and _fragile_, it was effective in cutting Gatlocke off completely. "You were just saying what was on your mind, like you always do. It's whatever. I've thought it over, and I'm not gonna accept an apology over what happened. You were just being you. I didn't come into this expecting you to change."

Terms that Gatlocke had never thought to associate with Rex before were suddenly emerging, latching onto Rex like shackles. Defeated. Resigned. Sad. None of which were welcome, but it was the newfound _doubt_ in Rex's regard towards him that really made Gatlocke itch.

This was horribly far from how they should have been. And yet…. Rex standing tall, charging boldly, teeth gritted and stark white against a face dirtied in dust and blood. Rex glaring at him, too tired for words, utterly exasperated with whatever he'd done. Rex laughing softly in the dark, warm and bared against him, moving his fingers in fascination against Gatlocke's inorganic ones. All of that felt distressfully far off now.

Their relationship was never the typical sort of union, but Rex had been happy with it. There would be days when it got ugly, when they'd beat the last ounce of snot out of one another, but the conflicts always remained physical, and they'd often follow it up with sex. And therein lay the real difference between those conflicts, and this one. Rex would consistently come back home. But this time, he'd left.

With frighteningly clarity, Gatlocke could see an end. Today foreshadowed other days exactly like it, that he couldn't stop for the fact that what he had done had been unintentional, and that Rex had already decided there was no way around this perceived disparage. And surely, after enough of these days, everything that held him and Rex together could be gone. And Gatlocke had never been one to fret over inevitability, but…he wanted Rex. He'd long lost any romantic notions of forever, but he wanted him for longer than just _this_.

And as it appeared, Rex was settling all too quickly for that direction, while a rancid sensation sunk in Gatlocke's gut. It was the feeling of being trapped, with not even a tangible wall to break down. Frustration was empathized in Gatlocke's fists, balling so tight that the strain of metal and wiring emitted a low creak.

Gatlocke punched him.

Metal knuckles connected with lax gut, and the force of the blow was so strong that the rock wall gave way and cracked from where Rex was slammed backwards into it.

"OW!" Rex yawped. His breaths were coming out thin now that he was thoroughly winded. He clutched his stomach, looking up at Gatlocke furiously with drool leaking from his mouth. "Seriously?! What the _hell_?"

"I'm sorry-"

The teen snapped, "I already said-"

"-for that punch!" Gatlocke asserted, because if Rex wouldn't allow any apology for whatever transpired this morning, Gatlocke was going to apologize for _something_, at the very least. He wanted to be able to express regret somehow. "I wasn't thinking. I just did it for some giggs and chucks, and it honestly wasn't worth it."

Rex paused, at a loss of how to respond, so Gatlocke took advantage of his uncertainty and pressed his point.

"I am who I am...but that doesn't mean I'm adverse to becoming better. It doesn't mean you have to stay upset." He advanced forward tentatively, while keeping watch of any signs that Rex might move away from him. Worst case scenario dictated that the teen build his boogie pack and fly off again, and it was to be avoided. "That's not what I want to come of this, of us. And I'm sorry."

He waited, meeting Rex's stare full-on. Rex had that taken aback expression on his face, with wide eyes and slightly parted mouth that happened where he didn't know what to make of Gatlocke, which came around semi-frequently. Gatlocke was used to seeing that at least, could have quite reveled in it on a normal day, but at this time, he was more focused in the shade of secondary emotion in overlay of Rex's initial reaction. He couldn't place it, only knew that it was something softer, and Gatlocke clung to it, wanted it to overcome all else that must have been broiling in Rex's head until now.

But Rex's stance didn't seem quite as tersely guarded anymore. The air about him was no longer wholly unapproachable. So Gatlocke approached him, closing the space between them cautiously, a humble step at a time. And then, after the other did nothing to rebuff it, moved a hand over where both of Rex's were, nursing his abdomen, weaved it tenderly with Rex's fingers so that it held with them against the injury.

Rex yelped, briefly hunching over himself to cringe as the residual pain flared up from the contact.

"Geez," he hissed. "You didn't even pull that one, did you? Freaking lunatic…."

Gatlocke didn't reply in words- he'd finished his piece- only let his other hand clasp gently along Rex's neck. The sensors along his arm revealed that the skin there was chilled, which came as no surprise at the altitude they stood at coupled with the knowledge that Rex had been here for the better part of the day. Gatlocke thumbed the crisp trail of dried tears along Rex's jawline. And, after a moment, he traced his fingers upward so that they settled in the young man's hair.

Rex's expression wavered at the touch, which was enough for Gatlocke to eliminate the space completely. He essentially wrapped himself around Rex, squeezing him tight, making him warm, and nestling his chin into Rex's hair; he soaked in all of the familiarity of Rex's smell, the feel of him, just holding him, and all of it still couldn't take him far enough away from his earlier thoughts of the ephemerality of everything.

Then, Rex's arms came up to settle around his waist- and it felt like releasing a breath Gatlocke hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

But before he could say something, Rex was speaking up, voice muffled from how his face was pressed against Gatlocke's chest. "One hundred sex-favors, at _least_. Anything I want, whenever I want it."

"Roger that!" Gatlocke agreed promptly. "We can start first thing tomorrow."

"Okay, that's hella gyp." Rex's head jerked up, and Gatlocke found the current moue he wore positively adorable and worlds away from the weary expression Rex had donned only moments prior. "Why tomorrow?"

Gatlocke only smirked down at him. "Because _I_ want to do something of _my_ preference to you tonight."

It earned him an eye-roll.

"Yeah, whatever," Rex said, and finally smiled.

**011001010110111001100100**


End file.
